Thoughts from Places- Part IV

Returning to Florence 23/02/2012
Sitting in front of Santa Maria Novella once more, listening to live music and enjoying the first warm day I’ve experienced in months. I love life. Returning to Florence was the best thing I could have done. Though I was there for immigration reasons and I spent most of the day in the questura, there are no words for how much I enjoyed being back in Florence. From the moment the train pulled into the station I felt like I was home. It’s amazing how after only three months in Florence it feels more like home to me than anywhere else I have lived. I missed Florence, and she welcomed me back with open arms.
Spending the night with my old roommate in a new place was so familiar it was unreal. Sleeping in a house I had never seen before should not have been so comfortable for me, but it was Florence so it could not have been any other way. Something about walking down the street that I used to live on and seeing that the same graffiti is still there comforted me. Florence hasn’t changed at all, and though I wish that my leaving the city had broken it’s heart as much as it broke mine I could not be happier that the streets of Florence are still my streets and that Florence is still my Florence. There is no joy like the joy Florence brings me, and no love like the love I have felt there.
I returned to the small café around the corner from my old apartment that I used to get a cappuccino at every morning. I was nervous that my favourite old lady would not recognise me and would not greet me with the “ciao bella” that made my day every day of my three months there. But from the moment her face lit up with recognition I could not believe that I ever doubted her. I was as much a part of her morning routine as she was of mine, and when she asked me where I had been it made me sad to say that I no longer live around the corner and that I was only back in town for one day.
I regret saying that I was happier in my one day in Florence than my one month in Tuscania, but it’s the truth. The familiarity, the memories, and the success of receiving my ‘Permit of Stay’, which is the reason I went back in the first place topped the three weekends I couldn’t leave the house because of snow.
Florence will always have a special place in my heart.

Leaving Tuscania 24/02/2012
If practice makes perfect I should be pretty damn perfect at goodbyes by this point. The amount of times I have lived and loved in a place and then had to leave it would make me the goodbye queen. Somehow, however, I have not quite perfected them yet. I have not quite learnt how to leave a place I love without feeling sad, how to part with a new but still close friend without knowing I will miss them.
I loved Tuscania. I loved the small town and the cobblestone streets, I loved the view of the countryside on a sunny day, I loved my house and my pets and my one short month of memories. But above all I loved the bonds that I formed. Above all I will miss the people more than the place.
I already miss the adorably friendly woman who worked at the green grocer who insisted I teach her a new word in English every time I stopped in to buy milk. She would write the words on a post-it note next to her cash register and make sure to use the word the next time I came back for more milk.
I already miss my advisor, who took two hours out of her day to walk me to the doctor and drive me to the supermarket on the one day that being independent and fending for myself just didn’t seem so appealing.
I miss my landlord’s weird, crazy, strange, friendly son who started off as just a neighbour and quickly became a good (though very confusing) friend. He helped me with my Italian homework, made sure I practiced the language though he spoke very impressive English and he introduced us to his friends. Coming from Florence where unless you went above and beyond making an Italian friend was a triumphant feat my small group of Italian friends in Tuscania were something to be proud of.
I miss my cat, who came with the house and stole my heart the moment she curled up in my lap in front of our fire place on one of our first nights there. I miss her warm purring body on top of my chest on the nights so cold that sleeping on the couch was more appealing than sleeping in my bed because it was that much closer to the fire, the only source of heat in the house.
But somewhere amongst all that missing and all those goodbyes, I am happy for the time I spent there, happy for the bonds I formed, and happy to know that I will be back one day without a doubt.
As for right now, I am happy to be in Rome!


Discovering Rome 28/02/2012
In my first few days in Rome I have leant some very important lessons. 1) Get used to the tourists; they’re everywhere! 2) Do not use a fountain as a landmark, there are about a million and one, and 3) expect to spend a lot of money. In my short time here, however, I’ve fallen in love with life in a big city all over again. Yes, I miss the welcoming small town feel of Tuscania, I miss walking from one end of the town to another in under an hour and I miss running into the same person every night. Most of all I miss interacting with local people. I can already tell that’s going to be hard in Rome. Aside from that, however, I love it. I love that it feels like I live in New York or London but surrounded by all the magnificent history of the Roman Empire. I love that everywhere I turn there is another grandiose monument of majestic fountain and I don’t even know what half of them were built for. I love that I can get on a metro 10 mins away from my apartment and get off 1 minute away from the Spanish Steps. So far, I love Rome, and it’s only the beginning. I can already tell the Eternal city will be hard to leave.

Un incontrare..

Last weekend I met a girl. This girl wasn’t particularly beautiful or particularly funny. She wasn’t inspirational or the protagonist of a heart wrenching story. But she was memorable. She was memorable for me because she was like looking through a time machine. For fifteen minutes I felt as though I was having a conversation with myself three years in the future. Her name was Danielle.

Danielle studied in Tuscania three years ago. She spoke a little more Italian than her classmates, but still nowhere near fluent. She was timid and excited and flirtatious and naïve. She lived here for one semester and met her husband. When we met she was sitting in the restaurant that he used to work in, the restaurant where they met. She was with her entire family and he with his and they were having a second celebration for their recent union. As I was walking out I caught a glimpse of their wedding photos that his proud father and owner of the restaurant framed and put on the wall. I loved their story, I loved her radiating joy, and I loved meeting her.

I have studied in Italy for almost 6 months now. I remember being the new girl, starting in Italy for the first time. I was lucky enough to have friends that had already studied here for one semester who took me under their wing. This time I am that person, and I have extended my wings to others. I can almost understand some Italian but am nowhere near fluent. I help translate what I can, just as Danielle did. I am not looking to meet the love of my life, in fact my father’s one condition when he encouraged me to study in Italy was “Do not get married.” I was, however, inspired, intrigued and in awe of this young girl that has lived my life and come away so happy.

I love what I’m doing, I love where I am, I love how fortunate I am and I try to appreciate every moment of it. But being diagnosed with bronchitis, being miserable due to the weather and being mildly home sick I’ve found myself losing sight recently of how lucky I am and how truly happy I am to be here. Meeting this girl reminded me of that.
It’s not because she has a fairytale happy ending, in fact it is more so because she does not have an ending yet. She is me and I am her. She studied at the same school I am studying in the same small town I am living in. I hope that one day I can go back to Florence, or come back to Tuscania and walk the same old streets older and wiser. I hope that these memories will follow me for the rest of my life and shape me the way it shaped her life. I know this experience has already changed me for the better.

V-Day

I used to believe that Valentines Day was a made up holiday for Hallmark and Cadbury to exploit lonely people or expectant couples. A girl on Valentines day falls into one of two categories, either single and therefore supposedly depressed and lonely or in a relationship and therefore in need of gifts and candy and spoiling for one insignificant day.

Today is different. Today I am single, ergo I must fall into the first category. But I am not sad and I am certainly not lonely. I am currently surrounded by good friends, eating a slice of torta al limone with a glass of sparkling white wine, and we’re settling down soon to watch ‘A Room with a View’. I couldn’t be further from lonely.
Today I am filled with love.

I love the small old city I live in where people are so excited to teach me Italian and for me to teach them English.
I love the new friends I have made, some I know I will be lucky enough to call best friends for the rest of my life.
I love the beautiful, though possibly haunted and freezing cold villa that I live in, even though I can see my breath in my bedroom at times…
I may not love my lungs for recently contracting bronchitis but other than that I am perfectly content.
I love myself, I love my friends, I love my family (though I miss them dearly), and I love life. What else can you ask for on a day of love?

Buon Valentino a tutti. Happy Valentines Day.